Unforeseen Consequences
by Salamon2
Summary: The decisions and changes that the four youngest Stark children have made to their past spread their influence out from Winterfell, spiraling out of their control and bringing chaotic consequences to the entirety of Westeros, completely changing the game of thrones. This story is told from many different points of view and is a sequel to Begin Again.
1. Jon Arryn I

**JON ARRYN**

When Jon had first received Ned's letter, he had been on the verge of asking Stannis if he would consider taking his son to foster. The boy was small and sickly and had only just been weaned from Lysa-but that didn't stop him from nipping at her breasts, even in public! This was no way for a boy of six to behave! And his wife only encouraged the behavior, in the name of keeping him close and safe.

Yet he did not begrudge his wife her indulgence to the boy for he was prone to shaking fits, and was her only child to live after a long string of miscarriages and stillborns. But the boy, he hoped, would not long remain a boy. One day his sickly son would inherit the Vale-a day he hoped was not too soon in its arrival. The Vale, much like the North he knew, followed strength-and a sick squalling hatchling would be pushed out of the Moon door if he had not at least strength of character for the East to respect. So the boy must be raised away from his mother. He had already mentioned it to Lysa, and she had raged and wailed at the thought of being separated from her babe-as she called their hatchling of a son.

Jon considered what Ned could offer his son. He himself had reinforced the quiet wolf's strict sense of honor, almost to the point where he was more of an honorary Arryn than a Stark in that regard alone. There was the matter of his acknowledged bastard, whose mother nobody knew-though the fact that he'd ridden out of Dorne with the babe did narrow the possibilities. But the fact that Ned had taken in the babe and raised him as one of his own on the one hand showed a sense of compassion and duty, not to mention an ability to acknowledge and live with one's errors. On the other it set a public example of private transgressions, and seemed to show there to be trouble in the marriage bed-though five trueborn children suggested that this had been overcome. Then there were the other benefits to weigh out-Robert would grow as a brother with his cousins and be tended to by his mother's sister-and how could Lysa refuse that? She could even easily visit the boy, though he'd be at a distance to be sure. And those five cousins would, the seven willing, help his son if ever in the future his son's rule were challenged due to his weakness—as unlikely as it might be, he would still need to consider it. And those cousins could inspire great change in his son. Perhaps turn him from a hatchling into a falcon chick?

Stannis however offered his own benefits as a foster father. He was stern, with no doubt at all about his strength—almost to the point of arrogance, but never once crossing that threshold. He had no sons of his own thus far and could spend his time turning Robert into the son he'd never had. But there was a sense of expectation that came with Stannis—that the world owed him something that Jon did not know if he wanted his son to have. And Stannis could be less than forgiving when dealing with matters of justice-he knew well of his loyal short fingered Onion Knight-viewing that past deeds were not erased by recent. If Jon had thought that after the sack of King's Landing the late war might have raged on for several years. Then there was the fact that Stannis was an easy one day's boat trip to Dragonstone from King's Landing, and Lysa could feel that the boy, while apart from her, wouldn't be too apart-even if he wasn't with family of hers.

It was a tough decision, and one he should not make in any haste. He rose from his desk, and moved to his dining hall, asking for wine to be sent so he might mull over the situation some more with ease. He liked the Hand's dining hall, while not grand like those afforded to the King, it opened up onto a splendid terrace with a view of Blackwater Bay that in these late evening hours he found relaxing to view. He was surprised however to find that the King was there waiting for him, finishing a cup of wine he'd brought with him. Upon his arrival into the room, Jon gave his bow, as was only right, and then took his seat.

"You wish to speak with me?" asked Jon

"Aye, Ned has sent me a letter."

Jon wondered if it was on the same subject, "You as well?"

"What did his say to you?" asked Robert

Jon smiled before saying, "He asked if my family and I might journey to Winterfell for a family visit, and for the honor of fostering his nephew in Winterfell, if it so pleased me."

Robert laughed adding, "He seems to be in an asking mood. He asked me if I might make his bastard a Stark."

This news troubled Jon—not that it wasn't unheard of—but it was typically the recourse of a man in desperation to preserve his family from dying out. With five trueborn children, it made little sense, "Why would he ask that?"

"Mayhaps his marriage to that trout isn't as cozy as we've all thought?"

Jon didn't like what this move suggested. It bode for a potential falling out between the Tullys and the Starks, and falling outs had a bad tendency to eventually lead to wars in his experience. If not now, then in a few years hence. Mayhaps it might be better to send Robert to Stannis. Just then the wine he'd asked for arrived.

"Ahh, good, I could use a refresher!" barked Robert, holding out his cup for it to be filled. As it was Jon thought of the coded warning at the end of Ned's letter. He wasn't the only one insisting for him to get a taster, Varys and his little birds had been tweeting as much. Well, he had his own spies-Valemen who had reported nothing of any tampering with any wine. And yet here was Ned singing the same song as Varys-were rumors of an assassination plot against him that widespread that they reached his ears in the North?

Well, either way, from this batch he'd be safe as Robert always had a taster on hand. It bothered Jon, he felt it showed weakness—as a King should show he had no fear of his subjects—but it made sense for him to have one with two Targaryeons still yet living and plotting if Varys' whispers of a potential marriage for the girl to the Dothraki were true. As Jon had his own goblet being filled, Robert summoned the thin man-Penos-from the shadows and told him to drink from his cup. The man did as he asked, commenting that the wine was rather too sweet for his palate. Robert laughed as he reached out to take the chalice from the man, but to his shock Penos dropped the wine to the floor, joining it not long after. As Robert began to terrorize his server, demanding to know every detail of the wine's journey to the table, Jon in horror could only conclude King's Landing was not safe for him or his kin.


	2. Bran I

**BRAN**

Arya, Sansa, Rickon and himself all had gathered at the Wolves' Pen, as it had come to be known by Farlen, the kennel master, and the rest of the staff. Rickon was more here to play with the pups than to be a full participating member of the conversation that needed to be had. It was finally time they talked about something that all of them had been avoiding for long enough—namely the seventh direwolf pup.

All four had been shocked to see that after Shaggydog-who'd come out sixth of his packmates—that the utterly exhausted direwolf mother had given birth to one last scrawny runt of a black and white coated male pup. The direwolf had been so exhausted she'd been unable take the sac off the smallest of her pups and it had been father who had done so for the wolf, much to her apparent appreciation. Their father speculated that had she had her litter in the wild, the seventh pup probably wouldn't have lived, but instead have suffocated in the sac.

"Looking at it scares me," finally admitted Bran to his sisters, after they had sat outside the pen for long enough without speaking.

Sansa looked as if she understood without him having to say anything else, while Arya instead asked a simple, "Why?"

Bran took a moment to think of his answer, choosing his words carefully before speaking, "It's not the pup itself. It's what it represents. It's alive when it shouldn't be."

Arya for her credit didn't respond to this, as though mulling over his meaning. It was Sansa who finally broke the silence-if one could call a conversation where Rickon manhandling the tiny Shaggydog while delightfully squealing in the background, against silence.

"It's alive when it shouldn't be. It's unexpected change. Something none of us saw coming or could predict would happen."

Bran nodded his head in utter agreement with Sansa's take on things. Up until this point Bran had thought they could make changes-like saving the direwolf mother, agreeing that Theon needed to be killed before he turned his cloak, telling their family about the future-though certainly each could tell and knew they hadn't explained everything, and so on-yet feel that everything would generally continue all the same. And because of that constancy they would have control over what changed. This pup's existence laughed in their faces that they had any control over anything.

"The thing is, this is not even that large of a change-what if something bigger changes?" supposed Bran.

"It's bound to have already happened, I think father might have written to Uncle Jon to warn him about Aunt Lysa," explained Sansa.

"If Uncle Jon lives…" began Bran.

Sansa finished his thought, "Then father doesn't become Hand."

"And then what?" asked Bran

Arya irritably sighed and stood, "You two can sit here thinking and questioning about whatever changes, I care not. Theon awaits." And with that she left.

The aftermath of Theon's near death experience had taken a strange turn, as it turned out an infection of some kind had gotten into his blood after the letting. Bran figured it was only a matter of time until Theon died, that Maester Luwin was only delaying the inevitable. But Theon was fighting the infection-some days even feeling better to be more coherent , which Bran hated because he started pitching a fit about how he wasn't so sick, but ultimately he was only just fighting it.

Their father had ordered the three of them to assist Maester Luwin tend to the Greyjoy heir as a kind of penance for their actions towards the future turncloak. Today had been Arya's turn to assist the Maester, and she had to help him one last time before they were to be in bed. In addition to these duties, and at the insistence of their mother, they were to have daily discussions on morality with Septon Chayle. All three found the punishments tedious at best, but they indulged their parents into thinking they were trying to make amends for appearance's sake. If ever Joffrey came through Winterfell's gates they would not hesitate to act again, but from Theon they had also learned they would need to be much more discrete about it whenever they decided to strike.

After Arya had left, Bran asked Sansa "What else do you think we've changed without realizing it?"

Sansa simply replied, "I know not, but have faith-we'll discover it sooner or later."

And the black and white direwolf runt of a pup continued to suckle at his mother's teat.


	3. Lysa I

**LYSA**

It had all gone wrong. Why couldn't the old man have simply drunk the wine and died? Things could have been so much simpler then. She wouldn't be boarding a boat bound for White Harbor-she'd instead already be out on the ocean, mayhaps halfway to the Vale with as good of weather as they'd had. And yet she knew that, on some level, it wasn't just the old man's fault, but hers as well. She had panicked and switched out the poisons for one more fast-acting than Tears of Lys-all because she'd casually overheard part of a conversation where Maester Pycelle had asked the old man what wine merchants had previously dealt with Petyr. Had her husband or anyone else in the court begun to suspect anything wrong with the wine and connected it to Petyr, Lysa couldn't bear to think of the possibilities. She had acted rashly, as Petyr had told her, but she had done it for him. She took comfort in that Petyr knew just how far she'd go to keep him safe, just how much she loved him. And his knowing that had allowed her to meet with the old man with the ability to appear contrite a few days earlier.

"_Jon, you must understand, I worry so much about Robert's health, and now yours is in jeopardy as well. Why not return to the Eyrie?" asked Lysa_

_The old man had scowled slightly before saying, "To flee to the Vale would show those assassins that we're weak, and an Arryn is not weak. But if you simply are travelling to visit your sister, and for Robert to meet his cousins in the North, then you may be safe without giving those assassins the satisfaction of knowing that they got to you." _

_He had then sighed before continuing in a more defeated tone, "It's exactly because it isn't safe here, Lysa that I'm sending you and Robert to your sister's family. In the end, you were right. We're not as safe as I would believe. I see that now, but in the North… well, Starks like the direwolves of their sigil protect their pack. Tullys as I've come to learn swim close with their family. With so many Stark-Tullys surrounding you, Lysa, you ought to be in the safest hands in the realm."_

In that moment Lysa had almost garnered some fleeting amount of respect for the old man. It quickly passed, but for the rest of her life she would ponder that one admission and wonder what might have been if he'd been different.

Petyr assured her that things could still be saved. He would take care of everything in King's Landing and she could go to Winterfell like the old man wanted her to with Robert, and whisper in her sister's ear about how she suspected the Lannisters were attempting to kill her husband so that Tywin might become Hand. Yes, things could be recovered and then she and Petyr could be together, but until then she would have to wait in that frozen wasteland.


	4. Sansa I

**SANSA**

Bran and Arya might have little use for Septon Chayle's discussions, but Sansa secretly found them fascinating. They held them in the Maester's Turret after Maester Luwin had finished with the boys' regular lessons. Sansa had taken residence during these discussions at Robb's chair and desk, while Arya preferred Jon's. Bran of course remained seated at his own. Arya usually had her eyes glued out the window to the practice yard, watching as Jon and Robb continued to train alongside Ser Rodrick's squires. Bran most of the time closed his eyes and Sansa suspected he might be attempting to practice warging with Summer, as the first few times he'd shaken slightly, but not enough to be noticed. That his shaking though seemed with each passing day to lessen more and more allowed her to suspect that he was improving-though what he could get out of warging a nursing pup she didn't understand. This wasn't to say that neither Arya nor Bran ever added much to the conversation, but it was clearly obvious to Sansa and Septon Chayle that they weren't interested in it. Sansa always listened to the Septon natter away to the sound of his old voice, speaking only to prompt him to continue vomiting moral questions and conundrums so that she might have time to ponder them and perhaps understand what upset people so much when these things were violated-and if she could understand that… then it mattered not what changed about the future.

Septon Chayle began by clearing his gravelly voice and then saying, "Today I've been asked by your mother to discuss the nuances of the morality behind striking an opponent who plots to do you harm before they attack you." At this, Arya and Bran sighed and pretended to be interested, knowing that this was the conversation the past few weeks' discussions on the justice of war, moral duties to set a good example for the smallfolk, etc. had all been leading up to.

Arya it seemed decided to hasten the lesson to an end by asking, "Like say if the Maegistar of Braavos were to learn that the Maegistar of Pentos had been buying up a company of sellswords to attack Braavos? And the Maegistar of Braavos heard about it while the Maegistar of Pentos was still negotiating the contract?"

Septon Chayle was flabberghasted for a moment, before continuing with, "Indeed, my lady. Such a situation would bring up a conundrum of moral and ethical issues. The Seven-Pointed Star is clear in the Warrior's Book that Strength comes from Honor. And Honor involves Fairness and Fairness comes from Chivalric conduct. Thus it would mean that we must determine whether to attack someone who intends harm upon you, but has yet committed no crime before the Seven-Who-Are-One, is fair, chivalric, and honorable."

"What if by attacking Pentos by surprise during the negotiations, the Braavosi Maegistar managed to prevent a war where thousands of Braavosi smallfolk died?" asked Sansa, continuing Arya's chosen allegory.

"Then you could argue that the attack was chivalric, if it was in defense of the defenseless. Though hard to prove as the defenseless were never put in any danger. Also consider though the enemy was not given a fair chance to defend themselves, as is fair and thus it would not completely honorable. But I would ask, in attacking Pentos might not just as many smallfolk of Pentos die?"

Bran at this returned to closing his eyes.

"But by planning to attack Braavos, the smallfolk had been put in danger." countered Sansa

"If you choose to define danger as the possibility to be killed, but then you would have to argue that we are all of us in danger every moment of our lives, that safety is an illusion-and we know that from the Father's Book this cannot be so. For it is written that he provides safety and justice to his children and wife. How can the Father provide safety if it does not exist?"

Sansa already knew the answer to this from her time in King's Landing. That the Northern Household was easily swept away with showed that it had been necessary for her, Arya, and father to have believed themselves safe, when they weren't.

What is safety but an agreed illusion? And they that control the illusion...

It was at this moment that a raven began tapping at the window. At first Sansa thought it carried a message, but then she recalled it would have instead returned to the rookery above Maester Luwin's private compartments-and besides there looked to be no note attached to its foot. The Septon, who had already long since left Sansa behind mulling on the definition of safety while he continued on rather proudly towards the conclusion he'd made about the moral question, was forced to stop his loquacious speech and walked over to the window to shoo the raven. When gesturing behind the glass prove inefficient, he instead tried opening the window and use it to bat away the hovering bird except the raven instead darted in through the open window and began to fly about the room. Septon Chayle, disturbed by its presence, gave pursuit and soon Sansa and even Arya began to find the scene of the Septon chasing the raven to be highly amusing. Bran however remained with his eyes closed. It was then that Sansa began noticing the bird was almost mocking the Septon as it attempted to fly in increasingly showy manner. When the Septon had had enough he attempted ignoring the bird, but it then insisted on not being ignored, cawing in the middle of his speech and scaring him by dive bombing him at rather inopportune times. It was beginning to become rather ridiculous. Finally the bird, having seemingly grown bored and tired from the exercise seemed to recall that it was a bird not meant to be stuck in such a cage as this room was and took flight out of the open window, which the Septon closed not a moment after its departure.

The Septon straightened his robes while saying, "I believe a small break is in order before we conclude our discussion on this topic." And having said as much he left the room. It was then that Sansa noticed that Bran had slumped over in his desk. Arya had noticed as much as well, and quickly the levity that the sisters had shared began to drain from the room as they tended to their little brother. Who after some rather violent shaking returned to the land of the conscious and shared a sly grin with his sisters.


	5. Eddard I

**EDDARD**

_He was running through the thick underbrush. The man who cared for the smaller cousins had begun to leave the door open, and his leg was healing. It was expected that he might take the pups and leave, but he stayed because the pups were safe in the man rock, and were growing close with the man pups, except the smallest pup. The smallest pup was his own pup. And this night he ran to enjoy the feeling of the dirt beneath his paws. He stopped when he came to a stream, smelling prey nearby… large prey. He stood still to try and catch sight of the prey, and saw it-a fat she-with-no-antlers, frozen in fear._

_Immediately he lept through the trees after the she-with-no-antlers. She bounded as best she could, blithely weaving through the trees. He would catch it, it was getting too close to the man rock now-it would have little place to run. When he saw the she-with-no-antlers stop in confusion upon coming to the man rock, he knew his time to strike was now. He gave one final leap and pounced, tearing into her sweet flesh. Much better fresh. He would save some for the pups._

It was then that he felt himself being shaken and suddenly he found himself in Catelyn's bed, no longer at the edge of the forest. He and Catelyn had taken to sharing her bed more frequently since that one night, enjoying one another's company more now that there were no secrets between them.

"Ned! Are you all right?" asked Catelyn

Ned sat up and shook his head, the memory of tearing apart the doe's neck in his dream still quite fresh, "I believe so, but I had the strangest dream…"

Catelyn exclaimed with worried eyes, "I ought not expect anything less. You were growling in your sleep!"

"Growling?!" he asked, shocked at the word she had chosen.

"Growling, Ned," confirmed Catelyn. She then began to rub his back while asking, "What was the dream?"

Oh that back rub was soothing to the touch. He leaned his body into her to make it easier for her to continue the movement while he replied somewhat distractedly, "I was running through the forest... and then I chased a deer down and killed it… tearing it apart with my mouth… it was at once thrilling... and succulent…"

Catelyn stopped her rubbing and Ned immediately missed her touch, almost feeling the inclination to whimper, but held himself back to keep from sounding like a beardless boy mewing for the touch of a woman. She then moved and patted the spot next to her he had half vacated by sitting up, saying, "'Tis a strange dream, but only a dream. Lay back down and soon you will dream other dreams."

He did so and she snuggled herself close to him, and they returned to sleep. Ned forgot the strange dream by morning.

The following day, after hearing two petitions from nearby smallfolk as to a land dispute on the farmers not respecting the boundary between their two selions in the oxgang they were to share, Maester Luwin gave him two letters from King's Landing. Before the man with the choker of a Maester's chain left, Ned asked him about Theon's condition:

"How fares Theon? You think he likely to recover?"

His fingers were once again at his choker as he said, "He continues on in this twilight of life, neither truly living or dying. I've tried most everything to root out the infection, leeches, poultices, even firemilk-but it is a stubborn infection I fear and as soon as I fight it back one day, it returns in full force a day or two later. I fear he might continue like this for a while yet."

Ned nodded to give the man his acknowledgement of understanding and dismissed him from the room.

One quite noticeably thicker than the other. Ned opened the thicker one first.

_Ned,_

_I am happy to report that my wife and son are currently enroute to Winterfell. They took the sloop Great Falcon out of King's Landing just today and shall put in at White Harbor in a fortnight. My wife shall expect that you or your wife will meet her and our son once they make port. No doubt Catelyn will be happy to see her sister, but I fear she will meet her a much changed woman, which you should make mention of to prepare her for. Years of miscarriages have been hard upon my poor wife, and she still clings to our son as though he were still a suckling babe. _

_I should also warn you that your nephew has a condition which your Maester should be notified of immediately, namely that of the Shaking Sickness. I suggest your Maester stock up on plenty of leeches and dreamwine-the boy will need them from time to time. Though sometimes I believe the boy plays up his illness because he knows it will get him what he wants, but this is something I suspect rather than know for certainty. Lysa and Robert travel with our Maester Coleman but he is to return to the capital after seeing young Robert into your care at White Harbor._

_As to your fostering Robert, I agree that ties between the Vale and the North should be strengthened by such a proposition. Upon the conclusion of the visit my wife is to be handed the enclosed letter with my seal, unopened. The letter inside informs her of the arrangement. I have not already done so because I fear she would have refused to have left King's Landing at all had I made mention of these plans. Before your letter I had brought up the mere possibility of our boy being fostered in general and she reacted rather badly to the idea. If she continues to put up a fight on the issue after you hand her my letter, I would ask that you remind her that her friend Petyr's position entirely depends upon mine and the king's good humor, which would lessen if this matter were not to be done according to my wishes. My apologies on involving you in the problems of my marriage, Ned, but I must admit that I am at my rope's end with my lady wife and her illogical fears._

_I thank you for your concern about my preferences of wine, as does the King, whose interest in the quality of wine has risen considerably given a bad batch which left a sour taste in his taster's mouth. I fear that this subject might be cause for further discussion between the three of us at a later date considering the connections with whom the sour wine has. Mayhaps we might have to encourage local vineyards to produce better wine until this sour season from across the Narrow Sea has been used up._

_Jon_

Ned contemplated the letter, he little liked being Jon's go-between for his wife, but the news that his would-be assassin was now removed from him, Ned felt more at ease. This harsh future his children spoke of, had all depended upon Jon dying and Ned becoming Hand. If Jon could yet live, mayhaps it all would never happen. Ned then turned his attention to the shorter letter which came from Robert.

_Ned,_

_I know not why you now wish to legitimize your bastard—the seven know you need not worry with the way your wife gives you children. But I shan't refuse you on this matter, though I will be satisfied as to at least knowing the name of the woman who caused the honorable Ned Stark to forget his vows for one night! Come to King's Landing at your earliest convenience with the lad and before all the court I shall proclaim him a Stark or whate'er else you'd name him. Though I would advise that you let your wife and her family be aware of your intentions before doing so. We need not have that be a surprise, for we all know what dark places surprises may lead to._

_Mayhaps while you're here we could discuss certain vineyards that haven't gone sour?_

_Robert_

Ned called for Jon and Catelyn to come to his solar. He had matters to discuss with them both.


	6. Jon I

**JON**

He didn't believe it possible that he could ever be more shocked than he was now. When his father had called him to his solar, he knew not what to expect. His surprise first began when he found his lord father with his lady wife. On some level he had to wonder at what her presence meant. Of late she had become less cool towards him, even managing to go so far as to begin a conversation with him about Arya and her new silent ways. Was this change in behavior due to the fact she had convinced his father that now he should be sent away from Winterfell? Could the woman bear to spare him a thought because she foresaw the day when she would not have to deal with him as coming closer? These thoughts had been going through his head as he was invited to take a seat. Jon instead approached and put his hands behind his back. He would face this decision on his fate like a man, standing up, and not like a boy.

"I would rather stand, if it is all the same," said Jon with a tone of solemnity which he had learned from his father.

His father sighed and replied, "As you wish, though I fear you may have need of the chair once you hear what I am about to tell you."

Jon steeled himself for the terrible news that was yet to be revealed. Lady Stark had not looked at him once this entire time, choosing instead to keep her glance upon her husband. His father's face emotionless face seemed almost confirmation enough. Where was it to be? Last Hearth? Karhold? Bear Island? Flint's Finger? All four were the furthest houses from Winterfell in the North. Or mayhaps he was being banished to the wilds of Skagos?

So when his father announced that Lady Stark had asked for him to be legitimized, and that he would be at the end of the line of succession after all of his other siblings, and that the King had agreed to the endeavor—provided they journey to the capital to make it so—Jon's thoughts immediately went to that he was dreaming. The Gods were taunting him with a dream of impossibility.

Apparently he said as much without realizing it. "You dream not." croaked a reply from Lady Stark, who still refused to look at him.

Jon finally did ascent to take the offered chair at this point, nearly falling into it as he did. Finally, after he had come to accept he was indeed awake he turned to face Lady Stark and asked, "Why, Lady Stark? Forgive me my boldness, but I feel I am owed some explanation."

Lady Stark bristled slightly at his impudence-as she would call it-and he could tell she was doing everything in her power not to snap a cutting reply to him, but instead artfully answered with, "I asked it of my husband and he agreed that it should be done. What else need you know?"

Jon almost felt himself break at that moment, but he held it to himself. He needed to know more than that, and so he said, "To speak plainly Lady Stark, you have always loathed me and my presence. Oh, you never were inhumane, but you made sure to let me know that I was neither welcome nor wanted by you every moment of my life here. At your example, most of Winterfell's staff followed suit for many years. Why should you then ask this of my lord father? It makes no sense at all."

"I loathe you not," she said less than convincingly. She then sighed and said, still without looking at him, but instead at her own hands which fidgeted nervously in her own lap, "It is true that I have been less than... kind towards you, but you have proven yourself to be a… considerate and honorable brother and an… affable young man. Your instinct to seek out Theon after you heard rumors of his attacking Bran and Rickon, speaks of how devoted you are to your siblings. Think you not that such devotion and loyalty should not go unrewarded?" At this last question she met his eyes at long last, and even though she had stumbled through her compliments, Jon could see she meant her words.

This Jon could accept, and so he turned to his father and asked, "I also ask you why, father."

His father began simply, "I have told you, Lady Catelyn asked it-"

"No. Why, if your intentions ever inclined towards legitimizing me, did you wait until she asked it of you?" asked Jon with a small amount of fury just barely being held beneath for what seemed to be his craven of a father.

His father's reply was long and obviously long thought on, but at least he managed to keep his eye contact when speaking to him. "Bringing you to Winterfell was I saw the only choice I could make at the time I came to know of your existence. You are a Stark, in blood if not name, and Starks should know Winterfell as their home. I apologize if it ever seemed it was a less than warm home to you all these years, but that was none of your doing. For you see, it was mine. Blame me, for it was my choice to raise you amongst your siblings as a true brother, that you should not know the pain of separation from them. And because of my choice, Cat has since, as you so put it, made it painfully clear that you were not welcome nor wanted by her. Yet now she seeks to make amends and to put the past behind us all. Mightn't you do as much? Truthfully this should have been done years ago, long before you came to truly understand what it meant to be a bastard, you are correct, but I did not want to further slight her than I already had. Forgive me for playing a pitiful balancing act of hurts and slights between you both. I hoped and prayed to the Gods that she might one day come to see you for the man you are becoming rather than the babe you were born. And they at long last have answered my prayers. It is a poor apology for what you have endured, but it is the only one I can give, for it is the truth."

Jon wanted to shout back that it could never amend for years of being isolated and singled out by his lady wife, of being japed about his birth by the likes of Theon Greyjoy, but something in his father's eyes made him reconsider doing as much. And at long last, after some consideration, Jon replied with a look towards his father's wife, "I can attempt it, if Lady Stark believes she is equal to it as well." Lady Stark for the briefest of moments seemed to begin a twitch for a smile, but then stopped herself.

There was a long silence that fell between them then, which Jon broke with, "I would ask one thing further of you, father. You have long told me that you would tell me of my mother when I was older. Am I now not old enough?"

His father sighed before saying, "Aye, I have promised to tell you of your mother, but we shall do so when you become a man. On the eve of that day, after you have enjoyed the day for its full worth, we shall sit down and speak of your mother."

"For the time being, may I not at least know if she is alive? Robb and the rest all have your lady wife. I have nothing to hold on to. May not I at least have that?" asked Jon. He would love to know more, but if he could only know one thing, this was the question he wanted answered most of all.

His father seemed to consider his request, and turning away from both him and his wife he spoke while looking out one of his windows in the direction of the Godswood. "She died soon after giving birth to you. You were not the cause, she had not access to a maester and your birth was... difficult. I reached her in her last moments. Her last words were to beg of me a promise to take care of you and keep you safe, 'Promise me, Ned' she said... And I have endeavored to do ever since."

It was something Jon had to admit, truthfully more than he had hoped for. That his mother was dead, he felt aggrieved, as there would never be any reunion. But that she had loved him at once endeared him to his mother and made her loss sting all the more. As Jon recomposed himself from the o'erwhelming emotion that had o'ertaken him upon learning at least the barest of information of his mother, he took note that Lady Stark seemed as greatly affected by what had been told. And for one moment he felt some amount of pity for Lady Stark, to hear of such a moment that his father had shared with another woman, must truly cut as deep as his loss of her.

It was then that a damnable guard interrupted them informing them of the capture of a Night's Watch man by a nearby hold sworn to Winterfell, and the arrival of three unexpected visitors who requested to meet with his lord father.


	7. Robb I

**ROBB **

At the news of Jon's legitimization Robb was ecstatic. His mother had finally come 'round to the view that the rest of the family had come to long ago. Robb noticed Arya was especially thrilled about the news, and Sansa almost as happy for Jon by comparison, but Bran seemed distracted when congratulating his brother in blood as well as soon to be name. Robb though knew exactly what such an occasion as this called for, and once he'd cornered him by the Wolf's pen, the pups sleeping while their mother was out hunting. Jon was paying close attention to the white pup, while a small grey pup had adopted him, demanding to be petted to sleep.

"We shall travel to a tavern tonight!" exlaimed Robb.

Jon shook his head and replied, "I think you have me confused for Theon."

"No, honestly, we should sneak out of the castle and celebrate your taking the Stark name. There does not have to be any whores-frankly I wouldn't know what to do with one if I got one-but drinking fine ale?" offered Robb enticingly.

Jon simply answered saying, "Why leave? We could do that here in the castle, and the ale would probably taste better."

"Yeah, but sneaking out is half the fun! Where's your adventurous spirit? And besides father would likely find us if we stayed here," countered Robb.

"Mayhaps he would, mayhaps he mightn't. We could always go to the First Keep," a clear smile stretching across Jon's face as he said as much.

Robb gulped at the locale given to him by Jon's challenge, echoing "The first keep?"

Jon then childed Robb, asking, "Now where's your adventurous spirit?"

"You'll rue the day you challenged that of me." Robb shook his head on it.

Robb and Jon then agreed that after the family had gone to bed they would meet between the stables and the Bell Tower so they could then sneak into the kitchens and swipe a small barrel of ale, which they then would carry as inconspicuously as they could all the way across the castle to the First Keep.

At the evening meal Robb had decided to sit across from the three visitors to Winterfell who had arrived unannounced two days prior. They were the Reeds of the Greywater Watch: Lord Howland, who was father's friend and a fellow veteran of Robert's Rebellion, Jojen, his son who was of Sansa's age, and Meera, his daughter who was of his and Jon's age. Robb was doing his best as the future Lord of Winterfell to be an affable host to the two Reeds closest to him in age, while Lord Howland and his father chattered away with his mother. Robb liked the Reeds, Jojen was perhaps a tad too serious, making Robb think he could give Jon a run for his money in a grave expression contest. He apparently though seemed to take interest in speaking with Bran in hushed whispers throughout the meal, who had taken a large interest in the new visitors-which made sense as in that other future he had travelled North with them, but these were not the Reeds as he knew them.

Jojen's sister was the day to his night, like he was to Jon, where she was all good cheer and smiles. There was something to her smile that disarmed Robb. He didn't know what it was, but he put it aside when he realized he had hardly touched his food, instead spending most of the meal observing and japing with the girl crannogman. Apparently Jon had taken notice of this for later when they had met between the stables and the bell tower.

"Was the food not to your liking this evening?" asked Jon with an almost sly look.

"I had other thoughts concerning my mind." answered Robb simply, playing at being contrite.

"Thoughts of a certain lady?" asked Jon

Robb was anxious, and eager to start, "And you say I confuse you for Theon... Are we going to get this barrel or not?"

Jon and Robb then quietly snuck into the kitchen and found one of the lighter barrels, obviously already started, and together they carried it out of the deserted kitchen. Once in the courtyard they stuck close to the shadows along the walls of the courtyard, on the chance that any person should look out. It took them probably twice as long to get to the First Keep than if they had just walked brazenly through the middle of the moonlit courtyard. The First Keep was a squat round fortress of well-worn stone, decorated with gargoyles and surrounded by a lichfield where the loyal servants of the Kings of Winter had been laid to rest. Behind the First Keep was the Broken Tower. Upon reaching the door of the First Keep, they put down the barrel and fidgeted with the large oak doors to the keep. Luckily after some force from them both, the First Keep's doors had opened with an echoing groan that gave both boys a moment of pause. Each remembered tales Old Nan had spun of this place, saying that at night the spirits of the Old Kings of Winter who lacked their sword by their statue in the crypts walked these halls, which was why the First Keep had been abandoned and sealed. Taking notice then of each other's reticence to enter the building first they then laughed at their boyish fears and pick up the barrel and entered the dark keep. The first floor was a dark gloomy, and covered in cobwebs to boot, after finding an ancient staircase, they then situated themselves on a landing next to a half-broken window. The moonlight streaming through the window casting a light on the leaf and dust covered landing.

As they sat next to one another, the barrel between them, they then pulled out the wooden cups they had swiped at the same time as the barrel and began the evening of drink with a toast to family. They matched each other drink for drink, entering into a kind of unconscious competition that they had always engaged in since probably their toddler years.

As they came to the end of their second cups and began to refill for their third ones, Robb suddenly had a realization, "You know, soon I shall not be able to call you Snow."

"I hope you can break the habit. I know how stubborn you can be once you get an idea in your head," teased Jon.

Robb thought long and hard for a moment before replying, "I am not stubborn, I am simply persistent."

They had just begun their third cup of ale each when footsteps were heard coming from the first floor. Suddenly the easy revelling spirit fled them as quickly as it had arrived. They sat, frozen in fear as the footsteps came closer, taking their time, as though its owner or owners felt they had right to be here, it was soon that a small dark form was seen at the foot of the steps. In the utter darkness it was impossible to tell if the somewhat human looking form was alive or not. Robb stared into the darkness, the form having stopped as if to listen or ponder what way to go. It was in that silence that Robb noticed he could hear Jon's breathing, rather loudly. Robb gave Jon a look and pantomimed closing his mouth to mute the sound. It was then that Robb once again heard the footsteps move on, past the staircase continuing deeper into the first floor's hall.

It probably was due to the amount of ale they had drunk, but both Robb and Jon remained motionless until the footsteps had completely faded into the distance. After a few minutes of silence, and frightened stares, both boys of four and ten began to recompose themselves with nervous smiles, dismissing what they had just witnessed to nerves and too much ale. Just as they were beginning to settle back into an ease of themselves a person appeared out of the shadows, startling them both, and causing Robb to drop his cup and spill what was left of his third cup of ale.

"I thought I saw someone in the darkness'," exclaimed the girl. It was Meera Reed. She stood half in the moonlight and half in darkness. The moon making her seem paler and yet more alive with some kind of primeval energy. She wore her brown hair long, it reaching to almost her mid-back, held back from her face by some kind of green cloth. She was dressed in green tunic with the emblem of a black lizard lion on it, above what appeared to be green trews with brown boots. O'ertop her tunic she wore what appeared to be a lizard lion skin vest, which Robb wondered if her father had made for her after killing one of those famed beasts of the Neck. She gave one of her disarming smiles that had Robb find any words he could have thought to say in response caught in his throat.

"You're welcome to join us," was Jon's immediate reply, casting a sideways glance to Robb that he obviously thought was discreet but in truth was anything but.

"To what are you two drinking?" asked Meera as she took a seat on the step below them.

"That my brother at long last is to become a Stark in name as well as blood," Robb mentioned rather proudly as he put an arm around Jon and then proposed, "Let's toast to it again!"

"Alas, I have no cup," Meera mockingly replied.

"Youcoulsharmi!" exclaimed Robb, his words offer bursting forth in a jumbled mix of words and syllables, as he offered up his own cup, after picking it up, wiping it off, and refilling it.

"Thank you, you didn't have to offer" was Meera's gracious reply as she took a sip of the ale before returning the cup to Robb. Robb took the cup back from her, their fingers just briefly touching for the most fleeting of moments.

"It's the least I could do," answered Robb, his chest puffing out slightly and his voice attempting to sound older than he was. Jon couldn't help but snigger in response, and Robb playfully punched his little brother in the shoulder to quiet him.

Meera smirked and then japed, "You two remind me of Jojen and me."

"I imagine most siblings who are close are as personable," added Jon

"Not all unfortunately. My mother has a sister, and they are like oil and water-neither can abide the other," added Meera with a hint of regret.

"How sad," added Robb, feeling obligated to say something.

"What brings you and your brother to Winterfell?" asked Jon, he obviously knowing the answer from the other future to have been a dream prophecy. But that should not have taken place until a year from now.

Meera chose her words carefully, obviously unsure of how much to tell them of her true reason for coming to Winterfell, "My little brother is rather gifted, and he would like to pledge his gift in honor of your house."

Robb did not hear one word for herself in that reply and so asked, "And you?"

Meera smiled and then said, "I go where my brother goes. He'll always be my babe of a brother, no matter how old he becomes, and he needs me to protect him."

"Won't your father and mother miss you both, though?" asked Robb

Meera took the cup back from Robb and took a swig before saying, "Aye, I know they will, but he's my brother and he needs me."

"To brothers" offered Jon as a toast, and Meera and Robb added their voices to the toast, each taking a drink in turn.

They spent several more drinks in each other's company, eventually becoming so giddy on drink that they could hardly keep quiet. Meera, despite her crannogman size, seemed to hold her ale pretty well and was not as far gone as Robb and Jon were when they had finished the barrel. It was then that they agreed it was probably best to return to their beds for the night. And so half-stumbling, and half-walking the three proceeded to leave the landing they had taken perch on.

When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs they heard in the distance the Bell Tower chime three times, and a breeze begin to blow and waft through the hall. Robb tripped and fell over something in the dark as they walked down the hallway to the great oak doors to exit the keep. Jon and Meera had then turned around to help him up, but instead of completeing the action they instead stood frozen, staring at something that was behind him. He stood up and turned to see what had caused them to freeze with fear. And that's when he saw it.

At the end of the opposite end of the hallway was the figure of a woman-at least it looked like a woman, it was hard to tell from that distance-but that was not the most amazing thing about her. Robb swor from that day until his last that that woman was a pale white color completely that he could see straight through. Upon noticing their looks, the figure turned to look at them, and then not a moment later seemed to charge straight for them-her feet never once appearing, though her footsteps could be heard coming hard and fast towards them. And suddenly an unearthly sound began to eminate from the spectral woman as she charged at them three. Robb immediately broke out of his frozen fear state, grabbed both Jon and Meera by their wrists and then turning tail and making a run of it at the oak doors. Soon the three of them were outside, attempting to shut and seal the he great oak doors once again. When they had they thought they heard and felt pounding on the doors, and backed away at once from the possessed doors and right into their lord father.


	8. Bran II

**BRAN  
**

Bran had been ecstatic when he had heard the news of the arrival of Jojen and Meera. When he had first seen them with their father, he'd been just how impressed with how they favored their father, Howland. He was a short man with green eyes, long brown hair worn to his shoulders, and a close-cropped beard that had a few streaks of white in it already. After his initial excitement passed, he soon took note that neither Meera nor Jojen approached him and he had to remind himself for a second that they were meeting him for the first time. In the future that was, he had not met them until a year from now at the Harvest Feast when they'd come to swear loyalty on their father's behalf to King Robb-or so they had said until he'd become privy to Jojen's secret ability.

Bran's heart skipped a beat when he saw Meera-she was younger now, mayhaps she might… wait he was younger too, so she still was twice his age. Damn.

Jojen had apparently between his current look and when Bran would have later met him, had begun to enter his awkward adolescence, but now he looked no more than a boy just a few years older than Bran, but obviously still a boy. After being introduced a second time, Jojen had then took to cornering Bran to speak to him alone in the Godswood. There Jojen this time cut straight to the point, mentioning his greensight upfront, instead of spending weeks and months of working up to mentioning it. Jojen quite seriously said that he had received a dream of a direwolf pulling him out of a dark pool of water he had been drowning in. Further dreams involved the three-eyed raven that had saved his life when he'd been a child and given him the gift of greensight, which had told him to find Bran. Bran was so unaccustomed to Jojen being forthright in his dower manner, that he at first wondered if Jojen had not a younger brother whom had been sent instead of him.

After his explanations had been given, Bran then began to wonder if the reticence of the Jojen whom he had known had actually been due to his relationship with Bran-that Bran had been too eager to understand things and frustrated by his limitations, that Jojen had to hold back for Bran's betterment-now the boot was on the other foot. Bran felt he had to tread carefully with what he said to Jojen-who was eager, perhaps over-eager, to learn how to better employ his gift, as the raven had promised him Bran would do. One of their first objectives that Bran tried to help him understand was that he himself was still learning-Bran was quite proud with what he had accomplished and managed to have re-learned in as short of a time as he had, but he had yet to re-connect with Winterfell's heart tree, which he felt was the part of his education as a greenseer he needed to pick up once again, and that Jojen would find the most helpful. But that required Weirwood paste, and Bran did not know how to make any. In the meantime, Jojen and Bran would spend their time mostly talking through his past dreams, teasing out possible interpretations.

When they were not alone, Jojen returned to having a quiet reluctance to speak with others, which made Bran wonder at how quickly the boy had switched between traits. The only time this reluctance seemed to fade was when Rickon had demanded to hear the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree from both Jojen and Meera-saying Old Nan did not know the tale, and he so desperately wanted to hear the tale again. At the mention of the Harrenhal Tournment's mystery knight, Bran noticed his father had paled while Howland instead smiled and offered to tell the tale to Rickon and anyone else who cared to hear it. This had garnered the attention of not just Rickon, but Meera and Jojen-who added that their father told it better than they did, his mother, Old Nan-who was eager to learn a story she had not yet added to her repertoire, Robb, Jon, Sansa, and even Arya. Bran listened but instead took most of his time observing how his father listened to the story, the icy exterior seemingly having melted completely, and a small smile barely hid as he listened to Howland expertly tell the tale. And suddenly Bran thought he understood why the other Jojen had been so insistent that he must have heard the tale hundreds of times. Bran also took note that Robb had sat next to Meera, and kept giving her odd looks when tiny lulls in the story occurred and he thought no one was looking. And it was in that instant Bran began to wonder what his brother thought of Meera, and a gnawing feeling took root in his stomach.

Due to Lord Reed's arrival, father had delayed riding out to pass judgment on the Night Watch deserter, but four days after proved that the matter could not be delayed another day, and so that morning he, Jory, Jojen, Lord Reed, Ser Rodrik and his two eldest squires, Emrik and Skae, all accompanied his father to witness the execution. Theon was still in his sick bed, and at this rate was likely ne'er to leave it again, Bran thought. Robb and Jon were back at Winterfell, cleaning the stables for having broken into the First Keep a few nights prior. Neither of his older brothers had told him what they'd been doing in the First Keep, each adopting a look mixed with fear and guilt whenever he brought up the subject.

When they arrived at the small holdfast in the Wolfswood, Bran decided to get a better look at the man that he was to see executed twice. The first time he had only watched from a distance, and had never gotten a good look at the man's face. But now when Bran looked at the man before him, he froze, for it had been the man of his last dream. Immediately the dream which had been so confusing at first suddenly made sense, and he had to speak to his father.

He managed to pull his father aside after he had finished speaking to the man whose holdfast they were at, who had captured the man in the first place, "Father, you can't execute him here."

"Where would you have me pass judgment on him, then?" asked his father incredulously.

Bran answered with the barest of pauses, full confident in what he had learned from his dream, "The Godswood, in Winterfell. I saw it in a dream… it has to be done there, right before the heart tree."

His father gave him a look of disbelief, "You'd have me drag this deserter to Winterfell, when he could possibly escape our hold of him along the say, all for a dream?"

Bran insisted now. "You know they're more than just dreams."

His father sighed and then turned to Jory and said, "Bound him up better so he doesn't run away. We're taking him to Winterfell for judgment."

Jory seemed confused by this order, but complied nonetheless "Aye milord.

"Problem, Ned?" asked Howland as Ned remounted his horse.

"There's been a change of scene." replied his father, and the ride back to Winterfell commenced. Along the way, Bran rode his pony next to the deserter, who was tied by a rope to Jory and his horse. He wanted to draw the man into conversation, but Jory eyed him sideways, as though to say it were a bad idea. This time there was no race to the bridge, no discovery of a dead animal, and the late summer snow that had fallen a few days earlier had melted away. And yet it all seemed so familiar. They reached Winterfell without incident and upon coming to the gates of the Godswood, the Night's Watch man seemed to freeze for a moment, as though tremulous to walk past the entry into the Godswood, but Jory gave him a shove, and the man crossed the boundary in that one movement. Once on the other side, he stopped, hunched over for what seemed an odd amount of time. When Jory had passed him and pulled on his rope, the man seemed to recover and oddly walked quite differently than he had before entering the Godswood. He now seemed resigned to whatever fate would meet him in the Godswood, when before he'd come across defeated and dejected. He was brought to before the heart tree, and a small wooden block was found and placed in front of the man of the Night Watch.

It was then that his father began the proceedings, "Gared of the Night Watch, you have been found to be a deserter of your brothers. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Gared spoke wildly, "You're all fools for just sitting here. You should be getting as far south as you can go. The white devils walk the snows again, and them and their wights shall come for us all."

The rest of Gared's sentencing was performed and Gared was then told to kneel and lay his head . As his father called for Ice, the Stark Valaryian steel great sword, from Jory, suddenly the man's eyes turned as red as a Weirwood's sap and he spoke in a voice at once deeper and more ancient sounding than he normally did. Bran noticed that Emrik, Skae, Jojen and his father all noticed the shift in Gared. His father however continued with his task.

"Go North young Bran Stark. Go North Jojen Reed, and you shall finally meet the three-eyed raven-"

But Ice silenced him before he could say anything else. He head fell off the block and rolled, falling right into the dark pool in front of the heart tree before anyone could fetch it. And it might have been Bran's imagination, but he thought he saw red sap drip down from the eyes of the weirwood.


End file.
